To a New England Girl

Ah, you have taken my hot delight

In France and stripped it of its wings;

Broken the swift Icarian flight

Of untoward imaginings

That sought a sun hardly my own.

And you have winged and brought me down

Through sudden ecstasy to rest

Upon your white New England breast,

Where love is fragrantly austere

As those deep-bosomed hillsides are

That slope down to Franconia,

Full-blossoming in early year.

Structure

12 lines · 1 stanza